"What does the sky look like?" he asked as I walked into the kitchen.
I gave him a smile and turned around to plop our coffee down on the counter.
"Oh, a little cloudy, some patches of blue."
I was glad that my back was turned, as in truth I hadn't really noticed. Why did he ask me this question?
Logically it was probably because he hadn't ventured out of the house in the past 2 or 3 years. Or maybe he just wanted to know if we would be able to enjoy our morning coffee on the deck, soaking up the early summer sunshine. Some days even in summer, it might be too cool, especially if the sky was overcast. Or too windy and he'd have trouble catching his breath.
More than likely, he just wanted to have some sense of the outside world. A world he had almost left behind.
Now, I'll never know.
Every day after that, however, I made sure to look up at the sky as I was running errands, so I could tell him what it looked like. And as I became more aware of the sky, I also became more aware of our environment.
Over the years David would make a comment like: "There's an east wind blowing." And I would look at him as if to say, "Who cares?"
Now I take more notice.
I think that being aware of the ebb and flow of one's natural environment is to feel connected, and David must have needed the strength of that connection.